


Miracle

by Mad_Maudlin



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Aftercare, Asexual Character, Elias didn't make them do it, Established Relationship, Finger Sucking, Fluff and Smut, Forced Orgasm, Gift Fic, Jonathan Sims: Service Top, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Penetration, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Trans Male Character, Vibrators, Voice Kink, but he's gonna take credit for it anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 08:21:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17556755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mad_Maudlin/pseuds/Mad_Maudlin
Summary: Jon would never dare thank Elias Bouchard, because it would only encourage him.(aka Jon has a rather specific fantasy, and now that Martin knows, he's ready to give it a try.)





	Miracle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [springgay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/springgay/gifts).



> A (late) birthday give fic for TK, who draws SUCH amazing TMA art (and in particular a beautiful sexy Martin). This was inspired by [this tumblr post](https://eliasfker69.tumblr.com/post/180724950094/huh-what-weird-dreams-about-both-of-his-bosses) of his, specifically the first image, because of reasons.

Jon would never dare thank Elias Bouchard, because it would only encourage him. But. If it hadn’t been for Elias’s meddling, he would never have gotten the nerve to talk about this particular fantasy with Martin. Which meant he wouldn’t be standing in his flat, nervously toying with a large, pliable dildo.

“You’re sure about this?” he asked, again, because this was...all right, certainly not the weirdest thing he could’ve asked, and probably not even the weirdest thing Martin had done before. But he couldn’t shake the sense it was intrusive, unfair, asking too much without offering enough. Which was how he felt about their relationship most of the time. (How he’d always felt about his sex life, such as it was, to be honest.)

Martin grabbed him by the wrists, looking remarkably calm and collected consider he was the one nearly naked. “Jon. Yes. I _want_ this.”

And Jon couldn’t really deny that tone of voice anything. “Are you sure you want to keep the binder on?” he asked anyway, just to check.

“I do,” Martin said.

“If it gets to be too much--”

“I’ll tell you when I want to stop.”

Jon took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly, through his teeth. He hadn’t considered that this exercise in trust went both ways. “All right,” he said. “Then...let’s begin.”

Martin smiled his brilliant, sunny smile, and sank to his knees.

Jon spent a few minutes just looking in awe at the sight before him. Martin’s back was straight, but he rested comfortably on his heels, hands crossed at the wrist behind him. His hair was loose, for a change, and Jon could run his fingers through it unimpeded, so he did. Martin’s eyes fluttered a bit, and he leaned into Jon’s touch like an affectionate cat.

Jon crouched down in front of Martin and brushed his fringe aside, then carefully removed his glasses and set them out of the way. Kissing him was easy, familiar; he could kiss Martin all day. Martin hummed happily, leaning in, but he didn’t move his hands from behind his back or try to deepen the kiss until Jon did.

Jon was so taken with the kissing that he completely forgot about the toy in his other hand until he tried to reach for Martin’s thigh and ended up jabbing him with it. He recoiled, embarrassed, but Martin just chuckled and sighed, “Don’t stop.” But he didn’t reach out, didn’t even lean in to close the gap between them. Just knelt with his lips slightly parted and adoration in his eyes.

Dropping the toy, Jon kissed Martin fiercely, and let his hands freely roam every inch of Martin’s soft skin. The downy hair on his thighs and upper arms, the faint stretch marks along the sides of his belly, the curves of his back and shoulders where the binder faintly dug in. Martin began to squirm, faintly, just from a few soft kisses and touches, and Jon wasn’t at all surprised to run his hands up between Martin’s thighs and feel wetness already gathering along his slit.

That was one of the things he loved about Martin, how sensitive he was, how eager. Those things had spun out into this particular fantasy, and now Martin had agreed to fulfill it. Jon stroked a finger along his slick lips, and then inside, angling the heel of his palm so Martin could rub his prick into it. Martin gave a long, low moan, rocking against Jon’s hand, and Jon pressed sucking kisses into his jaw and neck until he came trembling against him.

“That’s one,” Jon whispered, and Martin whimpered in response.

He reached for the toy again; he hadn’t been able to find the exact thing he’d imagined, but something close enough, a pliable silicone dildo with some interesting ridges and a suction cup on the end that also contained a pocket into which a small vibrator could be inserted. At Jon’s urging, Martin leaned forward, though his legs were still shaking a bit. Jon just rubbed the end of the toy through Martin’s slick folds, first, without turning the vibe on. Only slowly did he push just he molded head inside, and for a moment that was all he did—hold it there until Martin gasped out, “Jon, please,” in that needy voice he rarely used. Rarely had to use, because Jon could hardly deny him anything when he was like this, and he didn’t deny him now. Jon fucked him slowly, starting shallow and gradually getting deeper, until Martin was shaking and making little strangled yelps with each thrust.

Jon found the remote control for the vibe and turned it on, just for a few seconds, just long enough to make Martin truly yell. When he’d caught his breath again, Jon asked quietly, “How many was that?”

“Two,” Martin said dreamily, still panting from exertion.

Jon kissed his sweaty temple. “You’re doing so well, Martin. Lean back now.”

He didn’t remove the toy as he helped Martin straighten again, just held it in position until he could secure the suction cup to the hardwood floor of the living room. Sitting on his heels caused Martin to push the dildo deeper inside. He gasped and tried to lift himself up again, and now that motion dragged the toy out of him, turning one of his pants into a breathy moan.

“Good?” Jon asked, as though he couldn’t already tell.

Martin nodded, continuing to fuck himself in long, slow strokes. “Please,” he gasped out. “Please, Jon, please, I need you--”

Jon embraced him from behind, kissing at his neck and shoulders, pressing his face into his hair; he reached one hand down under the swell of Martin’s belly to stroke his cock again, trying to coordinate their movements and not really succeeding. Not that Martin seemed to mind, from the noises he was making, or the way his hands (still folded obediently behind his back) clenched and twitched against Jon’s shirt.

Jon nosed his way under a fall of gingery hair and sucked at the curve of Martin’s shoulder, until pinpricks of broken capillaries mingled with the more diffuse flecks of freckles. Martin groaned something that might’ve been his name, and then, amazingly, he was coming for a third time, slow and shivering in Jon’s arms.

“Three,” Jon murmured to him, when Martin had gone still. “How do you feel?”

“Need a second,” Martin said breathlessly.

“Do you want to get up?”

“...no.”

Jon climbed to his feet, keeping one hand on Martin’s shoulder while he groped blindly behind him for the kitchen chair he’d brought into the room. He pulled it over so he could sit, and Martin immediately leaned into him, pressing his face against one of Jon’s thighs. Jon brushed the hair from Martin’s flushed face; he felt a heady, strangely possessive sort of tenderness, the wonder at seeing Martin so wrecked and vulnerable electrified with the knowledge that Jon was the one who’d wrecked him.

“You’re doing well,” he said again, running his thumb along the curve of Martin’s jaw. “You’re gorgeous like this. So good for me. You try so hard to be good for me, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” Martin said, without even opening his eyes.

He bent low and pressed a kiss to the crown of Martin’s head. “I love seeing you like this, you know. I love making you feel good. I love knowing you’re mine.”

Martin inhaled deeply, sounding a little shaky. “Yours,” he repeated in a quiet voice, and. Oh. Jon would be remembering this moment for a long, _long_ time.

He kept petting Martin’s hair, but he didn’t miss the way Martin was starting to squirm in place, hips rocking minutely in place. “Mine. No matter who else touches you. You’re mine.” He paused as Martin gave a little gasp and buried his face against the inside of Jon’s leg. “Are you getting off on this?”

“A bit?” came the answer, muffled by the fabric of Jon’s trousers.

Jon curled one hand around the back of Martin’s neck and left it there, without putting any real pressure on it. “On my being a bit of a cave man about you?”

Martin nodded. “That and – your voice – fuck, Jon, _more.”_

Somehow he interpreted this correctly; the remote for the vibe was on the floor, just where he’d left it, and he managed to snag it by his fingertips without having to move away from Martin. Who shuddered as it suddenly came to life inside him, though he seemed too exhausted to actually fuck himself on it properly. Jon went back to stroking his hair as Martin started to whimper. “Christ, look at you. You’re a miracle. I could watch you get off all day long. You’re perfect, Martin, do you know that? Perfect. Astonishing.”

Martin groaned for that and threw his head back, exposing his throat. Jon had a brief urge to wrap his hand around it, even though that wasn’t part of the scene they’d discussed beforehand. He settled for running the back of his fingers down the vulnerable skin, from his chin to the neckline of the binder, and Martin leaned into the touch.

“Do you think you can come again for me?” Jon asked. “Just like this?”

“Dunno,” Martin gasped. “M-maybe?”

Jon let the tips of two fingers rest on Martin’s lower lip, which was red and a bit swollen from him biting it. “Would you like me to turn the vibrator up, or see if I can fit one of my fingers in alongside it?” he asked. He’d meant it more as a tease than a serious question, but Martin’s eyes flew open, and he was suddenly licking and sucking on Jon’s fingers. Which, well. That certainly was an answer, wasn’t it?

Jon let him suck, for a little while, before he stood up and maneuvered himself behind Martin again. He reached up between his thighs, stroking along his lips where they were stretched around the dildo and adding some of the slick there to the saliva on his fingers. He locked his other arm around Martin’s midsection, as much for keeping his own balance as for keeping Martin still.

He pressed a fingertip into the soft surface of the dildo, close to the buzzing vibrator inside, and then slid it carefully up until he was inside Martin to the first knuckle. “How does that feel?” he murmured against Martin’s neck.

Martin groaned. “Good. Mm. Full.”

“More?”

“ _Yes.”_

Another knuckle, and Jon could feel Martin’s body clutching at the intrusion, little ripples of contracting muscles. All the way in, and Martin made a keening sound, both hands locked into fists in Jon’s shirt. “So good,” Jon said, as he started to slide out again. “Taking everything so well. You’re doing marvelous, Martin. Just marvelous.”

Both fingers alongside the toy had Martin shaking, sweat pouring down his face, and he seemed unable to form words. Just rock gently in place, as Jon fucked him alongside the dildo, murmuring a stream of praise and encouragement and soft nonsense into his ear. “C-c-close,” Martin gasped, when Jon paused to kiss away a bead of sweat from the side of his face.

“You can do it,” Jon said. “Come for me, sweetheart. Just like this.”

Martin’s head lolled backwards; his eyes were glassy, his body trembling, helpless, and Jon felt that same possessive adoration, even if he didn’t voice it this time. _Yes. Mine. Always._

XXX

After the seventh hard-wrought orgasm, Martin tapped out. “I can’t,” he said, panting with his head in Jon’s lap. “Really, really can’t.”

“That’s all right,” Jon said quickly. “You’ve done wonderfully.” He reached back to untie Martin’s wrists (Martin had suggested that, somewhere around orgasm #5; Jon had improvised with a necktie, the softest thing he owned) and then helped him lean forward until the dildo popped out with a soft, wet sound.

He had to help Martin up onto the couch; there were red marks on his lower legs from so long spent kneeling on the hard floor. “Water?” Jon asked.

“Please.”

He fetched a cup from the kitchen, and Martin spent a minute just pressing the cool plastic against his flushed face. Jon went to work gently massaging his feet and calves, getting the blood flowing again. He impulsively pressed a kiss to Martin’s ankle, and Martin giggled. “What?” Jon asked.

“You look pleased with yourself, is all,” Martin said.

“Maybe I am pleased with myself.” He paused. “That was all right, wasn’t it?”

Martin snorted into the cup. “That was _brilliant_. I’m not going to be able to walk properly for days, though.”

“You might even have to call in sick,” Jon said, switching from the left leg to the right. “What _shall_ you tell Elias?”

Martin laughed. “He was probably watching, the pervert.”

(A small, rather nasty part of Jon rather hoped that was true, actually. Just to show him who Martin’s heart really belonged to, or at least, who could claim the largest part. But that was petty, and besides, Martin was the one who decided where to lay his own affections. Jon was just lucky that somehow, in spite of everything, he’d chosen to share some part of them with him.)

Jon insisted on drawing Martin a bath, and washing his hair while he half-dozed in the warm water. It felt right, taking care of him like this, and intimate in an entirely different way. Jon roused him just long enough to get dried off and changed into some comfortable sleepwear, despite it being barely nine o’clock. Martin collapsed onto the bed in a heap, on top of the blanket, and snagged Jon in a one-armed hug when he tried to slip away.

“Stay,” Martin murmured. “Just a minute.”

Jon hesitated, thinking about the mess he’d left in the living room – but it wasn’t like the mess was going to be any worse in a few hours. He settled onto one side of the bed, and Martin proceeded to wrap around him like a climbing vine, head on Jon’s chest and one leg pinning both of Jon’s to the mattress.

Jon couldn’t fight down a smile at that, as Martin’s breath slowly evened out. No, he would never thank Elias, but perhaps something good had come of this particular bit of meddling after all.


End file.
